


What Brothers are For

by saisailove



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7051903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisailove/pseuds/saisailove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford has a nightmare and Stan comforts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Brothers are For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azhdarchidaen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azhdarchidaen/gifts).



Ford was surrounded by blackness. No matter which direction he looked, he could see nothing besides darkness all around him. He felt like he was weightless—floating in this void, completely alone, _suffocating_.

Ford grabbed at his sweater. He could feel himself panicking, hyperventilating in the abyss. He was alone, completely _alone_ , and he had no idea how to make his way out of this. It was as if his head were filled with cotton balls, because he could barely think, barely think his way through this—whatever it was he was in.

He could feel his vision blur, but it was hard to tell with the absolute nothingness that extended everywhere. He tried to scream, but he couldn’t hear anything. No matter how hard he shouted, even to the point of making his throat raw, not a sound made its way to Ford’s ears.

He tried to take a breath to calm himself, but he found that he couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, the suffocating feeling from earlier returned with full force—only this time, far more literal than it had been. He tried to grab his throat, but his hands wouldn’t move, or—were they even there to begin with? He couldn’t think, he couldn’t _breathe_ , he felt himself disappearing, as if he were drifting away from himself, and he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t _stop it_ —

A hand appeared out of the darkness, and tightly grasped Ford’s own.

Suddenly, he could feel himself breathe again, gasping for air. But he was still surrounded by the stifling darkness. He could hear something in the distance. It was as if the sound was muffled by water, because Ford couldn’t quite make out what it was exactly. He felt the hand holding his own tighten its grip, and slowly, he could make out words from the darkness.

“… ord, are you in there? Hey, hey, just listen to me Sixer. It’s gonna be alright. Just listen to my voice…”

Slowly, Ford found himself being pulled from the darkness. His surroundings slowly returned to him, as if black curtains of fog were being pulled away to reveal the scenery behind them. And he remembered.

He was on the Stan O’ War with Stanley. He wasn’t in some dark, suffocating abyss. He was with his brother.

He could feel his vision clear, and the pain of his sore throat, but it was a welcome pain, because it meant that he was real. He lifted his head—did he have tears running down his face? When did that happen?—and looked at Stanley’s worried face.

A hush fell over them as they stared at each other for a moment. Ford noticed that the hand grasping his own was Stanley’s. He grasped it back.

“… You okay there, Sixer?” Came Stan’s hesitant voice. Ford was still steading himself and catching his breath, but he gave a weak nod. Stan nodded back, and ran a soothing hand up and down Ford’s back.

Suddenly, Ford felt himself sob.

He could feel Stan startle, but he kept his cool and continued to comfort Ford.

The sobbing didn’t stop, and before either realized it, Ford threw himself into Stan’s chest. Stan immediately wrapped his arms around Ford, whispering comforting words, and gently rocking them. Ford sobbed into Stan’s off-white shirt, drenching it with snot and tears, but Stan didn’t say a word, and continued to sooth Ford.

They stayed that way for a long while.

After what seemed like hours, Ford finally felt stable enough to detach himself from Stanley’s (now soaked, he guiltily noticed) shirt. Stan kept a hand on Ford’s shoulder, however, ready to offer more comfort.

Ford opened his mouth to say something, but his throat _hurt_ —he hadn’t noticed just how much pain his throat was in until now. Stan hastily offered him a glass of water and Ford gratefully gulped it down.

Finally, Ford cleared his throat. His words were unsteady, but full of feeling.

“I… Stanley… thank you.” Ford whispered. “ _Thank you._ ”

Stan gave a crooked smile, also off balance but just as sincere as Ford’s words. “No problem, Sixer.” He wrapped an arm around Ford’s shoulders and squeezed. “That’s what brothers are for.”

Ford felt himself lean into Stan’s hug, and let his shoulders relax. “Right,” he breathed out, throat still sore. “You’re absolutely right.”

Ford didn’t notice when he started nodding off. All he knew was that he was safe, next to one of the most important people in the world to him, and it seemed like all his worries were melting away. He felt loved, and safe, and _home_.

He didn’t have any nightmares that night. Instead, he dreamed of the sea, a ship, and his brother.

He smiled in his sleep.


End file.
